Lost in the Valley of the Nights: Trailer
by Smiles1998
Summary: As an Early Barricade Day present, I present you, a trailer fic for a story I might possibly write this summer. So... Interested?


**This is just a trailer fic to see if anyone is interested in this story. If so, please leave a review. **

_**June 6**__**th**__**, 2014. 182 years after the barricades…**_

Javert blinked his eyes open. He found this strange. He was dead. He should be in Hell. Or maybe Heaven. That was up to the Lord.

He had jumped. He had jumped off the bridge into the Seine. He had committed suicide. He should be dead.

So why was he still alive? More importantly, why did he feel perfectly fine? Even if he had jumped and survived, his body should've been screaming in near agonizing pain from the jump.

And even more important, why wasn't he wet? He had jumped in a river, he should be soaked to his bones!

"Mornin' sleepin' beauty." A female voice remarked dryly. Javert turned his head slightly to see a young girl-couldn't be older than sixteen-with curly red (A very _bright_ red) hair, wide brown eyes that were currently narrowed at him, and lightly tanned skin. He took notice of the girl's clothing.

A tore up skirt with poorly sewn on patches littered across, an old chemise, probably a shawl, and a rag that was used to hold her hair back. She was a _gamine_.

He frowned. "I know you from somewhere."

"You should." The girl remarked as she propped herself up on her elbows, Javert took notice of the bandage across her arm. "You arrested me pa a few times. Gotta ask ya, Inspector, why didn't'cha keep 'im locked up?"

Although he has a suspicion of who this girl's father is, he still has to ask. "Who was your father?"

The girl looks at him in annoyance. "Thénardier." She spat. "I'm unfortunately his second kid."

"Second?"

"Yeah." The girl jerked her head to the side. Javert followed the motion and saw another girl (This time with dark brown curls) dressed as a boy lying asleep on a couch not too far from him. "My sister's 'is first."

Javert recognizes both the girls now. Both from the times he arrested them, one from the times passing her in the street, the other as the first to die at the barricades.

"She was the first to fall." He muttered.

"Yeah." The girl flopped back onto the bed unceremoniously. "Died savin' a boy who she fancied she loved, boy ran off with the first pretty blonde he saw. Tried savin' 'er, I did. Went to the wrong barricade an' got caught in t' cross fire. Last thing' I thought was 'Azelma, what the devils ya get yerself killed fo?' an' then I guess I died. Next thing I know, me broken arm's bein' set and some bloke put us all in here to rest."

Javert merely looked at this girl, Azelma she called herself. His frown deepened. "You died?"

He merely meant it as an observation-How could he and these two girls be living right now if they died?-but Azelma just scoffed and sent him a glare. "Thought you would've put two'n'two together. We died in 1832 if I'm correct. And before he left, I asked the bloke "Monsieur, if it ain't too much trouble, mind tellin' me the date?' and ya know what he said Inspector? Y'know what he said?" Javert shook his head. He didn't like where this was going. "He told me 'My dear child, it is June 6th, _2014_'. Its 2014, Inspector! We've died and went nearly two hundred years forward in time!"

Javert blanched and turned away from the girl. This was impossible. There is no way he and these two girls had traveled forward in time. Things like that just didn't happen.

"Well, good to see two out of three are awake."

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Marshall smiled knowingly at the three of them. "Well, when I found you three, _this_ fell out of Azelma's pocket." He held up an old piece of paper. It was a News Paper, dated June 4th, 1832. "So, unless you all are historical actors who are truly dedicated to your parts, I figured you must be from that year."

The three were left in stunned silence. That was, until Azelma started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Éponine asked her sister.

Azelma turned to her sister. "You know I can't read t'save me life! I don' know what I was carryin' that for!"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Marshall was kind. Kinder than anyone Javert or Azelma or Éponine had met. Within the past week, he had fed and clothed them all and allowed them to stay in his home, he had offered Javert a job as manager of one of his factories, had offered (and agreed) to teach them all they needed to know about the modern world, and he said that he would be sending Éponine and Azelma to school the following autumn.

"What are the schools like nowadays?" Éponine asked. Javert had never seen anyone so eager to go to school. When he was young, lord knows he didn't want to attend.

"Fantastic! Everyone on the same grade level is taught equally and fairly, and anyone who has special needs is assisted when necessary." Marshall answered.

"And how fair the jobs?" Javert inquired. "How well do they pay?"

"Don't worry my friend," Marshall chuckled. "You shall receive your fair share of pay."

"What about those people in the picture?" Azelma smirked as she gestured with her fork towards the counter. "Who are they?"

"Azelma…" Éponine chided.

"It's fine Éponine." Marshall answered. He reached over and handed Javert (The former Inspector being closer to him then the girls) and handed him a picture which Éponine and Azelma leaned over his shoulder to see.

It was of him and a beautiful (And heavily pregnant) woman with long blonde hair and blue-green-hazel eyes holding two young girls close to him. One looked to be about nine or ten and had long blonde hair and blue eyes while the other looked to be about four or five and looked quite similar to the other, only her eyes were the same color, but wider and her blonde hair more curly.

"Those are my two daughters, Abigail and Evangeline with my wife, Francine." Maguire smiled. Then proudly pointed to Francine's swollen belly. "And that little bump is my baby girl Nicolette."

"It is a very beautiful family, Marshall." Javert said.

"So… If you don't mind me asking… where are they now?" Éponine asked cautiously.

Marshall's smile faded. "My wife is off at some factory working. And my girls… I sent them to live with their Uncle and Aunt outside of the city."

"Why would you do that?" Éponine asked.

"Because… For the past ten years, luck has never been on my side. So, now that I have the money, I need to make sure everything is stable before I can send for any of them."

Azelma raised a brow. "What'd ya mean, past ten years?"

Marshall exhaled. "Because ten years ago was when I escaped."

"Escaped what, M'seiur?" Éponine asked.

Marshall paused for a moment before he replied softly "Parole. My name isn't Marshall, it's Patrick Pontmercy, and I'm an ex-con."

"What?!" The three others asked in unison.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Javert could hear the shrieks and screams even before he stepped into the room. _**"What is this fighting all about? Will someone tear these two apart? This is a factory, not a circus!"**_ He shouted as he stepped into the room. Everyone immediately separated and avoided his gaze. _**"Come on ladies, settle down. Marshall is the mayor of this town, he run's a business of repute-"**_ Javert stopped mid-sentence as he glanced up and saw Patrick (who was looking a bit nervous) talking to a police officer. He immediately recognized the officer from Patrick's description of him. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, it was painfully obvious.

The officer was Rollin.

Javert turned to the Forman. _**"Deal with it Forman… And be as patient as you can."**_

"Yes sir." The foreman told the former Inspector. The last thing Javert heard as he turned to go to Patrick's office was the foreman saying "Now, someone say how this all began!"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Francine turned down the street to head to the little house. _"Just sell the necklace, and then get out of there! Don't think of doing anything else!"_

She ran a hand nervously through her blonde locks, she hated that she had to sell this necklace, but now that Javert had fired her, what choice did she have? She saw some extremely drunk men

"_**I smell women, smell 'em in the air! Think I'll drop me anchor in that harbor over there!"**_ One nudged his companion playfully at the sight of her.

"_**Lovely ladies, smell 'em through the smoke! Seven days of work can make you hungry for a poke!"**_ The other man eyed her tastefully.

"_**Even stokers need a little stoke…"**_ The youngest one sang, earning a laugh from his companions.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

"I can't believe you would even consider such a thing!" Éponine shouted at him. "Patrick has been nothing but kind to us since we've got here! He's given you a job! He's put me and Azelma through school!"

"Introduced us to the _"wonderful"_ world of homework." Azelma said sarcastically, looking up from her Chemistry textbook. Éponine shot her sister a pointed look and the red-head returned to her homework.

Javert let out an aggravated sigh. "_Mademoiselle_, you must understand where I am coming from. I have lived my entire life by the ways of the law. I cannot let something such as Patrick's escape go unnoticed. The sooner he is reported the better we'll all be."

He heard Azelma gasp. Turning to the girl, he saw that she was looking at him in a fearful-yet pitying-way. Her hands coming to her mouth in surprise. When he raised a brow to question her odd antics, she merely started to shake her head slowly.

"The better we'll all be? _The better we'll all be!_" Éponine screeched at him. Frightened by the murderous look on her face, he started to back away from her.

"What kind of flowers should I bring to your funeral, _M'seiur_?" Azelma asked him harshly.

"Patrick saved our dammed lives! He took us in, taught us all we know of the modern world, sent me and 'Zelma to school, gave you a job at his own factory, gave us all a roof over our heads, clothes to wear, and warm food to eat!" Éponine narrowed her eyes, closing in on the former inspector. Ironic, he thought, that if they were still back in 1832, he would be the one closing in on her. "He saved us, Inspector! He told us the truth of his family and his past! Patrick was kind to us when I'm very damn certain no one else would've been if they found us! And you, _Monsieur Inspector_," Éponine spat out the words as if they were venom. "Want to turn him in, and not only ruin our lives, but the lives of his wife and three daughters. Where's the morality, _the humanity_, in that?"

Javert paused a minutes, his heart still racing in fear of the young woman who stood before him, before raising himself up to full height. "Éponine, I understand you are scared. But think of your father. Wouldn't you want someone to turn him in if he were free-?"

"The difference between Patrick and my father are that Patrick is a good, kind, understanding man who gives from the very bottom of his heart. My father sold his own daughters to the highest bidder and beat them when he was angry or drunk or both." Éponine growled. If looks could kill…

"I have lived my life by the law, and I have never been lenient on it, not even once during my life. And I am not about to start now." Javert meant for that to be his exit line, but as he pushed his way past Éponine and was about to head upstairs to his room, she spoke.

"Jean Valjean."

Javert froze. One foot on the first step, the other on the ground. His back toward both Thénardier girls. He glanced at Éponine from over his shoulder and asked "What did you say?"

"Jean Valjean." Éponine replied, her back turned to him as well. "He was Cosette's adoptive-father. And after Cosette married Marius, he became his father-in-law. So, he is also Patrick's-however-many-great's-maternal grandfather."

He turned to her. "Éponine what are you getting at?"

The brunette whipped around. "You spared him! You had the chance to take him back to the galleys, hell, you had the chance to _kill_ him, and you let him go."

"Ooh! Plot twist!" Azelma said in a sing-song voice, clearly amused by the interactions.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

"It's called 'Doing what's right'. I wouldn't expect _you_, a man of the law, to understand, seeing as how you shun human instinct." Éponine spat at him, pulling her jacket tighter.

"Believe it or not Éponine, I am no stranger to human instinct or emotions." Javert told her.

Éponine snorted. "Of course you do. And I'm the Queen of all Europe!"

"If you are, then _this_-" H gestured to the many whores and pimps in the area, who were seemingly interested in their argument. "-Must be your court!"

_Smack!_

Everyone from the whores to the pimps, even Azelma (The latter surprised him most of all) gasped in shock. As Javert brought a hand to his already reddening cheek. It was already throbbing.

"You… You slapped me?" Javert said, looking at the brunette, utterly stunned. In the past six months, she had come close to slapping him, but has never actually done it. It shocked him.

"No shit, Sherlock." Azelma drawled sarcastically. He could practically feel her rolling his eyes at him.

"I _know_ what I have come from. I _know_ what I was forced to do so I could live to see another sunrise. I _know_ that I come from scum. But the _true_ difference between you and I is that _I_ am trying to make a change, better the world we now live in. _You_… You haven't changed… And I don't believe you ever will."

For whatever reason, that stung. It really did. Stung him right to his core.

"Whoa, 'Ponine, that seems a little harsh? Don't you think?" "_Oh, so now Azelma is coming to my defense? My, what a strange night this is."_ Javert thought, appalled. "It's not his fault he's to daft for his own good!"

"_And—she's back."_

"Why would you care, 'Zelma?" Éponine asked. "As long as you have a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food to eat, you should be happy."

"And I am… I'm beyond happy here." Azelma assured her sister. "But with Mr. High-and-Mighty being gone all the time, someone has to make sure you two don't strangle each other. And that would have to be me, unfortunately."

"Merci, Azelma-" Javert started to tell her

"Did I say you could call me Azelma? Hell no. It's Mademoiselle or Miss, to you, _Inspector_…"

"_**Here's something new."**_ A male voice from around the corner caught their attention. _**"I think I'll give it a try. Come closer you! I like to see what I buy."**_

Éponine sent one last venomous look Javert's way before marching off to go investigate, Azelma at her tale. Javert was about to give up on them, when a new voice caught his attention. _**"I don't want you… No, no please sir, let me go!"**_

Why did that female voice sound so familiar to him? He jogged to catch up to the Thénardier girls and saw that they had stopped just at the edge of a building. He saw their frowns, their concerned brows. And seeing as how it was better to leave a sleeping beast be, he decided to let them have their peace. But then he looked over and saw who they were looking at.

Shorn hair that was once blonde, wide, hollow blue eyes, and pale skin. The woman was beautiful, once upon a time. But now, she was worn and frail. But, even in her ragged appearance, Javert was still able to recognize her.

It was Francine Pontmercy, Patrick's wife.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Javert placed himself in front of Éponine, protecting her from Rollin's bullet. _**"I was born with scum like you, I am from the gutter too!"**_

Éponine glanced towards Francine's body. _**"And this we swear to you tonight-"**_

"_**There is no place that you can hide."**_ Rollin told them, advancing on them.

"_**-Your children shall live within our care-"**_ Javert promised Francine's unmoving body.

"_**Where ever you may hide away-"**_ Rollin narrowed his eyes.

"_**-And we shall raise them to the light!"**_ Éponine promised, a sad smile on her face.

"_**I swear to you, I will be there."**_ Éponine, Javert, and Rollin swore. They all exchanged glances. Rollin raised the gun to the level of Javert's head, causing Éponine to let out a strangled gasp.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the h-"

_BAM!_

A sickening groan came from Rollin's throat as he dropped the gun and crumbled to the floor. When he crumpled, he revealed Azelma—who was holding a fire extinguisher high above her head—behind him. Panting and glaring down at the now unconscious man. She let the extinguisher drop from her hands.

"Azelma!"

"I panicked ok! He was going to shoot you for crying out loud! I'm only sixteen! I can't take care of three little girls!" Azelma cried.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

As Feuily ran back to the shack they had been staying at for the past six months to tell the other Amis and Gavroche of their new plan, Enjolras glanced back at Grantaire, who was still glaring at the Hudsons. "Glaring won't make them any less cruel to those girls than they are now, Grantaire."

"It is snowing! Neither Abigail nor Evangeline has proper clothing—hell, they barley have shoes! And what of Nicolette? She is not even a year old, she only has a blanket to protect her! Might I even point out that it's Christmas Eve?" Grantaire scowled.

Enjolras laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, the two may not agree on a lot, but this was one thing they could agree on: The Hudsons were scum. Cruel, dark scum. "We shall intercept the girls, and take them away from here. Get them away from this abuse. We just have to find them"

"For the sakes of those girls, I'm going to just ignore the holes in your plan and say we'll cross the bridge when we get there." Grantaire smirked.

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Enjolras could hardly believe his eyes, it was Marius's shadow, Éponine. She was alive! Alive, and well and… wearing a fur coat?

He glanced at her companion, she looked familiar, but Enjolras couldn't give a name to that face, and saw that she was wearing a luxurious coat as well. This new world has obviously treated them well. That's when Enjolras noticed that there was a third party involved, a man, older than the girls, but unrecognizable any other way.

"_**Hush now… Do not be afraid of us"**_ Éponine's voice rang quietly throughout the woods as she slowly approached the tree the girls were hiding behind.

"_**Don't hide, show us where you live!"**_ Her female companion smiled at Evangeline's figure, which was starting to peak out from behind the tree.

"_**Tell me, little girls, what are your names?"**_ When the male spoke, Grantaire and Enjolras's blood ran cold.

It was Inspector Javert.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Grantaire hissed quietly to his blonde leader.

"The same as Éponine and the other girl, I suppose!"

"But why is Éponine with him in the first place? She knows that he is practically the opposite of what she and we all stand for right?"

Enjolras could only shrug helplessly.

Evangeline, the sweet, five-year-old little chatter-box of a girl, stepped out from behind the tree. _**"I am not afraid, sir. My name is Evangeline, I am only five years old. This is my sister Abigail, and the baby is Nicolette."**_

"Abigail? Nicolette? Evangeline?" The other girl asked, Enjolras could detect a small smile in her voice. The two older girls nodded, Nicolette just made a gurgling baby sound.

Javert stepped forward and removed the stocking cap he was wearing and knelt down to Evangeline's level. "_Mademoiselles_, may I help you with your bags?"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Grantaire tossed his brush down. "I think I'm gonna call it a night. Head home, sleep, eat… Do something…"

"Not selling anything, eh?" Jehan asked.

"Not a single painting." Grantaire told him. "And frankly, I'm just not going to waste my time here if I'm not going to be-"

"LOOK OUT!" A female voice from behind him shouted.

Grantaire was barely able to jump out of the way as two flashes of blonde hair ran past him. Courfeyrac and Jehan reached out to steady the former drunkard. "What was that?"

"Blonde Tasmanian-devils?" Courfeyrac offered.

"Angie! Nicki! Slow down! Papa will be-AH!" The female voice from earlier—who had been trying to shove her phone into her pocket, thus not seeing the three men—screamed as she collided straight into Grantaire, sending them both to the ground.

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-" Both of them started to apologize but stopped short once they both looked at each other's eyes.

Grantaire felt his heart leap into his throat and his stomach fill with butterflies. He'd recognize those brown eyes anywhere. They had been haunting him non-stop for eight years, as they did before the barricades rose… _"Azelma…"_ The word echoed through his head like a prayer.

The girl, on the other hand, was having mixed reactions. True, her heart was practically on cloud nine at the sight of those blue eyes, but she was also filled with dread. _"If he was here, does that mean others are here?"_ She thought.

Grantaire's face morphed into a small, adoring smile. "Hi…"

The girl paled. "Hi…"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

"Enjolras, look out!" Combeferre shouted, yanking Enjolras back onto the sidewalks.

Enjolras looked up and saw that if his friend hadn't saved him, he would've been run over by a car. He nodded at Combeferre before continuing down the street. "Thank you, Combeferre. If it wasn't for you I would have-"

Enjolras trailed off as he spotted something—or someone—standing on the grass nearby. Handing out bread and money to some beggars, wearing a pure white sundress with a bright red belt, and one arm hooked under the arm of an older gentleman—possibly posing as her father—was a girl whom he hadn't seen in eight years.

"Éponine…"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

Eight years had treated them all well, Enjolras observed. Abigail was a beautiful young woman, and her hair was now shoulder length. Evangeline's hair was now stick-straight and as long as her hips. And Nicolette, oh, sweet little Nicolette, she was now an adorable eight year old girl with her blonde curls into ponytails on either side of her head.

Javert, aside from his cane and a few more grey hairs, hadn't really changed. The red-haired girl seemed to have had no changes, except instead of a teasing smile, she wore a relaxed one as she played with two toddling boys, one with brown hair, and the other with black.

But, Éponine, she caught him off guard once gain.

Her long, chocolate curls were held back by white hair ribbons, and the light green dress she wore, she looked like the picture of innocence. "You know she doesn't wear this outfit for the final scene, right?" She asked Abigail.

"I know, but just where it! It looks good on you! Plus, we don't have her other costumes yet." Abigail pointed out.

Éponine rolled her eyes. "Ok, but someone has to read Jareth's lines."

"I'll do it! I do a pretty darn good English accent." The red-haired girl smirked. "Just pretend I'm coming out from the shadows, kay sis?"

"Dear God in heaven…" Éponine rolled her eyes. The red-hair girl, whose face turned to one of intense seriousness, started to approach Éponine. She had an air of power around her.

"Give me the child." Éponine said.

"Sarah, beware, I have been generous up until now…" The red-haired girl said, she spoke with an English accent. "But I can be cruel."

"Generous?" Éponine asked innocently, tilting her head to the side. Enjolras found himself following her every move. "What have you done that's generous?"

"_Everything!_ Everything you wanted, I have done. You asked that the child be taken—I took him. You cowered before me—I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn't that generous?"

_**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**_

"_**Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade is there a world you want to see?"**_ The Friends of the Free sang quietly, and much to the Les Amis's horror, Molly jumped into the street, waving her flag as she went.

"_**Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!"**_ Molly sang.

Enjolras felt his heart sink as he watched Éponine join her friends in the parade.

"_So… History does repeat itself…."_

**A/N: So… what'd ya think? Review if you want me a make a story out of this. Happy Early Barricade Day!**


End file.
